Movie review: 'Dancing Across Borders' doesn't work as documentary

Friday

Apr 23, 2010 at 12:01 AMApr 23, 2010 at 10:16 PM

Fans of both contemporary and classical ballet should easily fall under the spell of “Dancing Across Borders,” a documentary about a 16-year-old Cambodian dancer who gets an incredibly lucky break in America. But fans of documentaries will likely feel short-changed with the way fledgling director Anne Bass has presented the story.

Ed Symkus

Fans of both contemporary and classical ballet should easily fall under the spell of “Dancing Across Borders,” a documentary about a 16-year-old Cambodian dancer who gets an incredibly lucky break in America.

There’s performance galore, and young Sokvannara Sar, who goes by the nickname of Sy (pronounced “see”), is a sight to behold – effortlessly pulling off leaps and landings, pirouettes and pliés. He’s graceful, athletic and fearless. It’s no surprise that he became a star in the ballet world so quickly.

Sy is a pleasure to watch, and It’s astounding to see how Sy develops and matures, how much he improves over the approximately seven-year span of the story, whether practicing on his own or adhering to the strict tutelage of his teacher, Olga Kostritzky.

But fans of documentaries will likely feel short-changed with the way fledgling director Anne Bass has presented the story. That Bass, an extremely wealthy New York socialite and patron of the arts, has put herself right in the middle of it all wreaks of self promotion.

Yes, she stumbled upon Sy, then a young traditional dancer, during a trip to Cambodia, and she ended up sponsoring his trip to New York, with hopes of him getting accepted at the School for American Ballet.

Yet it’s a bit much to see her on camera, explaining that after he was initially rejected by the school (the reasons actually make sense), she had to “beg” to get him accepted. Maybe if she just looked right at her own camera and said, “I gave them a blank check,” it would be easier to watch without rolling your eyes.

Fortunately, the film keeps coming back to Sy, who grew up, it’s explained, dirt poor, but found joy in the art of dance.

The tale of his forced, hardcore immersion and assimilation in Western dance, which has nothing to do with the style he had been practicing, is quite fascinating.

Unfortunately, when the film isn’t spending too much time focusing on Bass’ generosity, it’s settled straight on Sy, as he recalls those tough days and explains how far he’s come. The problem is that Sy, though quick on his feet, is a dullard. When he’s talking instead of dancing, the film is a snooze, and he talks a lot. It’s much more fun to look at Olga’s collection of unflattering eyeglasses than to listen to Sy’s blathering and chuckling.

Even at a brief 88-minutes, the film feels awfully long, especially when the most interesting advice Sy can offer is “Try to have fun, wherever you go, whatever you do.”